


It’s Empty in the Valley of Your Heart

by VolarFinch



Series: The Cave [The Aftermath of Kingdom Hearts] [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Angts, Catharsis, Crying, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Canon, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sora Deserves Nice Things, Sora Lives, Sort Of, Trauma, and i would like to explore those hot takes, and we have some hot takes, anyways i think sora should get to vent and grieve, as a treat, breakdown - Freeform, fellas my friend and i talked about sora's mom, it's a mental breakdown [cue off-tune kazoo], this is unfortunately not what he gets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25710712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolarFinch/pseuds/VolarFinch
Summary: He could barely remember the Sora who had gushed about Power Rangers and Dragon Ball Z. He saw traces of the kid he’d been nearly four years ago but it seemed so… distant. So other. He felt like he was intruding in his own room; a stranger ruining a place so full of happiness and love.Sora stared at the room that had once been his and tried to feel something. Just… something. Anything. Anything that tied him to the kid that had existed in this room, had lived here, had grown up here, had been happy here.| Or, Sora in the aftermath Kingdom Hearts III.
Relationships: Sora & Sora's Mother (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: The Cave [The Aftermath of Kingdom Hearts] [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864669
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	It’s Empty in the Valley of Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've been sitting on some KH thoughts for a Hot Hot Minute since my friend and I got into it and realized we could do these characters better. So that's what I'm here to do! Sort of. It'll be largely canon-compliant in terms of the plot that happened, but characters and their relationships will be grown and expanded.
> 
> This fic has a lot of emotion packed into it––it's got a lot of crying, some vague dissociation, and just a lotta processing the grief and trauma he's gone through. As a treat!
> 
> Shout out to my friend Lauren for just going feral with me over Sora, his friends, and Sora's mom, who is basically the best woman in the world and we're gonna get more of her if/when I write more. Thanks for reading!!

Sora woke with a gasp.

He rocketed out of bed, hand reaching out before he was fully conscious. His Keyblade appeared in his hand, a flash of light and sparkles that was jarring against the dark night of the Destiny Islands. His fingers wrapped around the hilt, fingers slotting into place where the hilt had begun to adjust for his grip. The cold metal of his weapon snapped him from his reverie, and he shook his head free of his dream. He lowered his arm to his lap, gripping the Keyblade tightly.

He could still feel the cold horde of Heartless surrounding him, inching closer and closer. He could still see his friends disappearing into the masses, vanishing with a half-scream as they were overtaken. He could still see Riku, offering him a sad grin, as he was drowned in an ocean of Heartless. He could still hear the rush of wind in the empty plain; he could still hear the thumping and scratching of the Heartless as they clamored for him. 

Sora exhaled shakily. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath.

This was… what? The fifth time he’d woken up this week? He was having trouble keeping track now. It had been fine when it had only been every few days, but it was starting to become more and more frequent. It was getting hard to lay down and sleep. His heart clenched at the idea of never sleeping without nightmares again––he felt sick that one of his favorite past times had been turned against him so effortlessly.

“You’re okay,” he said to himself, voice quiet. With all the shouting he did on a regular basis, part of him was surprised he could be this quiet still. “You’re okay. It’s––it’s just a nightmare. Just a dream.”

Dreams had his thoughts go to his failed Mark of Mastery exam. His body shivered at the reminder, ignoring the heat of the room. He tried not to think about his failed exam, not if he could help it––he could get lost in all the things he did wrong if he allowed himself to. He _had_ gotten lost in all those things before; he’d spent entire nights consumed by his own flaws and only snapped awake from his own thoughts when the sun peeked through his window.

He thought of increasing cold; of growing darkness; of navigating the maze of his heart, desperately trying to find his way out, trying to break free from whatever Darkness had taken hold. He couldn’t remember what had happened when he’d been caught by Xehanort, not fully––there were bits and pieces he could recall if he thought hard enough, vague voices and murmurs he couldn’t make out, but nothing concrete. He thought he remembered Roxas, briefly, but he wasn’t entirely sure he’d been real. He wasn’t sure how much of what he could remember _had_ been real.

Sora curled up into a ball, hand still gripping the Keyblade. He ran his free hand through his hair, humming to himself; his mom would do this when he was anxious as a kid. She’d run her hands through his hair, untangling the mess, and humming quietly under her breath. He’d always thought she’d had a nice singing voice, even if she were off-pitch sometimes. He liked that he’d inherited that tone-deafness from her––it reminded him that she was real, that his childhood had been real, that _he_ was real.

Sometimes it was so hard for him to remember what was real.

A faint burst of yellowish-pink caught his eye. Sora turned to his window, staring out at the beach as the sun began to peak over the horizon. He watched as the streetlights began to flicker off, one by one, as the sun rose overhead.

He hadn’t realized he’d gotten so lost in his thoughts. He wondered, briefly, how long he’d drifted off for this time.

After a moment’s hesitance, Sora dismissed his Keyblade. It disappeared in a familiar flash of light and sparkles––he watched the sparkles disappear from view, staring into the empty space for a long few seconds. Eventually, he uncurled from his ball and pushed himself off the bed.

He stared out at his room as the sun rose behind him. The ceiling was bedazzled with glow-in-the-dark stars he and Riku had put up when they were little. His wall was covered in posters of bands and shows he’d loved when he was in middle school. His floor was still covered in clutter––knick-knacks and toys and clothes and action figures he’d always been too lazy to put away. He could still trace the path he’d created to safely navigate from his bed to the closet to the hall and back, left untouched after all the years. If he focused hard enough, he could still hear him, Riku, and Kairi laughing as they chased and wrestled each other in this room, falling asleep in a pile on the floor for his mother to find. He could still hear Riku knocking on his window late at night after another rough night with his parents. He could still smell Kairi’s first perfume––it had been the mayor’s wife’s and had been so distinctly floral and old lady-like he nearly hurled on the spot. He could still smell the roasted chicken his mom had been cooking the night he’d slipped out of the window and into the night, vanishing from the Destiny Islands and discovering a world larger than he could have imagined.

He could barely remember the Sora who had gushed about Power Rangers and Dragon Ball Z. He saw traces of the kid he’d been nearly four years ago but it seemed so… distant. So other. He felt like he was intruding in his own room; a stranger ruining a place so full of happiness and love.

Sora stared at the room that had once been his and tried to feel something. Just… _something_ . Anything. Anything that tied him to the kid that had existed in this room, had lived here, had grown up here, had been _happy_ here. 

He felt his chest tighten with emotion, something dark and curling and _hurt_ , and Sora let out a scream.

Sora rushed over to his walls, ripping the posters off with vitriol, the paper tearing underneath his hands. He tore at his room, a whirlwind of grief as he stomped and kicked and shoved and _broke_ anything he could get his hands on. He threw things off his counters, kicked his old toys across the room, tore the limbs off of his old action figures, a guttural scream at his lips. He shut his eyes tight, barely seeing past the white-hot tears streaking down his cheeks, his hands curling into fists as he sunk a punch into the wall. The wall caved under his anger, barely offering resistance as his knuckles throbbed with pain. His scream hit a crescendo, tearing at his throat; it was a sound so otherworldly, something so fucking _devastated_ he couldn’t help but stumble back and collapse under it. He broke off into a sob, an anguished noise that filled his ears. He curled up on his knees, forehead just ghosting the wood of his floor, hands pulling at his hair and just _screaming_.

Sora could distantly hear the sound of someone running up the stairs, heavy thumps against the creaking wood of the house. He shook his head––he couldn’t let anyone see him like this. He couldn’t let his _mom_ see him like this! He had to be okay, she’d been so worried about him, she’d thought he’d died, he couldn’t do this to her, he couldn’t, he _couldn’t_ ––

He let out a high whine as the door to his room opened, curling in on himself further. The noise that left him sounded like a pained animal––it was so distinctly _broken_ that he couldn’t understand how he’d been holding it together this long. How long had he been this fractured? How long had he been this _broken_?

 _Leave,_ he begged, _don’t see me like this. Please don’t see me like this. Please, please, please._

“Oh, _Sora_ ,” he heard his mother murmur.

A shaky hiccup interrupted his next sob, and he shut his eyes tighter to the world around him. He wished he could disappear into the Darkness and never come back––he never wanted to deal with the emotions curdling in his chest, rotting him from the inside out. He never wanted to hear the _disappointment_ so evident in his mother’s voice again, never wanted to confront the expression that must have been on her face if he could help it.

He could just sense his mom entering the room, the creaking floorboards giving her away as she crouched in front of him. He let out a whine, shaking his head–– _leave, leave, leave. Please go, leave me, please don’t see me like this._

“Can I touch you?” his mother asked, voice gentle.

 _Leave me,_ he pleaded, unable to stop her as she untangled his hands from his hair. She laced her hand through his hair, painfully careful as her other hand held his; he flinched under her touch. _Leave, leave, leave._

“I have you, Sora,” his mother said softly. “I’ve got you, my little cloud.”

Hearing his old nickname stomped on something in his chest; his entire body shook as another whimper left his throat. Her little cloud, her Sora––he couldn’t be that kid. He _wasn’t_ that kid, not anymore.

 _Leave,_ he asked, begged, pleaded, bargained, demanded, hoped. _Please._

“You’re safe,” his mother continued. “I’m not going anywhere, Sora. I’ve got you.”

It was decided without him then. He went limp under her touch, allowing her fingers to untangle his hair. He focused on her humming, the same off-tune song she always sang when he was scared, taking in the notes and letting them reverberate throughout his being. He couldn’t stop the tears from leaving his eyes, nor could he stop the occasional, pitiful sob that left his throat––but his mother didn’t leave. She just sat there, patient, quietly repeating that he was safe and that she had him in that same even tone.

Sora wasn’t sure how long he sat curled up, his sobs subsiding under his mother’s gentle touch. His entire body had a tremor to it; the burst of adrenaline that had burned through his veins began to die out as the time waxed on. His ragged breathing calmed to a wheeze, only the occasional hiccup interrupting him. Still, he could only think, _Leave, leave, leave, leave, leave._

“Can you look at me, Sora?” his mother asked finally.

He hated himself for cringing away at the question.

“Please, Sora. I’m not upset, I promise.”

Promises were important things to him and his mother. They never made promises they couldn’t keep.

Slowly, hesitantly, cautiously, Sora allowed himself to uncurl from his ball. He stared at the floor for a long moment––stared at where his tears had stained the wood, stared at where his nails had found a groove in the wood and dug themselves in and pulled. He stared, blank and dreading, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. After what felt like an eternity, he lifted his gaze to meet his mother’s.

His mother offered him a small smile. She looked tired, deep bags under her blue eyes. She had more worry lines and wrinkles than he remembered––every time he looked at her now, he thought of how different she looked from what he remembered. He recalled her being so much happier, looking younger than she was now. Another swell of grief made its way up his throat, and he tried to withhold another sob as tears pricked his eyes all over again.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” he managed, his voice hoarse and broken. He dropped his head, eyes screwed tight as he shook his head. “I’m _so sorry_.”

“Look at me, Sora,” his mother repeated, voice still painfully gentle.

He did.

She put her hands to his face, wiping some of his tears away with her thumb. She put her forehead to his, closing her eyes. He could see tears in her eyes; guilt ate him up. He couldn’t do _anything_ right, could he? Couldn’t not hurt anyone, could he?

“I have you, Sora,” his mother continued. “I know you’re hurting. I know you’re scared. I know you feel so painfully alone. I know you look at this room and don’t see the you who used to live here.”

Sora held his breath. How did she know that? How could she _possibly_ know that? He’d been so careful to hide his true feelings, to bury them so deep he hoped he could forget them. How could she _know_?

“I used to feel this way too,” she proceeded. “When your father died, you were only a baby––I had no idea what to do on my own. I had been so sure I couldn’t do it alone. The grief––it’s overwhelming, isn’t it? Just––looking around and seeing what so clearly had been you once, all distorted by time and pain until you don’t recognize that person. I saw it the moment you entered your room and just _stared_.

“I’m sorry I didn’t confront you on these feelings sooner,” she pressed on. “I wanted to give you time to settle in––I thought it might help, being in a place so familiar. I thought it might ground you.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have done that. Sora, you’re––you’re a lot like me. You like to bottle things up––like to hide it away and ignore it until it goes away. Except it doesn’t go away. It just lingers and _rots_ , and then… then this happens.”

His mother pulled her head back, her eyes fluttering opened. Sora wondered if he looked as tired as she did; he looked so much like her from the messy brown hair to the sky blue eyes.

“You’re going to be okay,” his mother insisted, no room for argument in her voice. “I know it doesn’t seem like it but it’s true. You will be okay. Not now and maybe not tomorrow… but eventually you will be. You have me, you have Riku, and you have Kairi––all of us are here for you, okay? Recovery isn’t easy, my little cloud, but you’ll get there. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

His mother offered her pinky thumb. Sora stared at it; for a moment, he hadn’t recognized the gesture. Carefully, hesitantly, he looped his pinky finger around hers. She did the finishing motions for the pinky promise and all he could do was watch.

_I promise._

Something like relief bubbled up in his chest, breaking past the anguish and fear. A hiccup left his throat as he blinked tears out of his eyes, reaching out and grabbing his mother in a hug. She curled her arms around his back, holding him tightly as he pulled himself fully into her lap and hid in the nape of her neck. A pained wail left his throat as he hugged his mother, the crushing sensation of _it’s over_ shattering on top of him. She crooned, singing that same song as she pet his head and held him close.

“It’ll be okay, Sora,” she promised. “I promise, my little cloud, you’ll be okay.”

And Sora believed her.

**Author's Note:**

> NEXT TIME: Sora gets his hand checked out, Riku and Kairi come over, the gang start to heal.
> 
> You can find me as @adotcorbin on essentially every other popular platform (Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter), so feel free to follow there for updates and such!


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